


Happy Ending

by GeniaTheParadox



Category: Nathan Barley (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dan is a miserable sod and Jones is made of sunshine, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Massage, Smut, all from Dan of course, canon-typical angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeniaTheParadox/pseuds/GeniaTheParadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You need to relax, babe. How’s about I give you massage?”</p>
<p>“Let me guess. With a happy ending?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> I've been rewatching Nathan Barely a lot lately and it made me realise that I have never written a Dan/Jones fic before, so here we are. 
> 
> I suppose this could count towards my Brushes and Bagels contribution, although I can't remember the policy on smut so I can only apologise for taking the prompt "Happy Endings" to it's logical and sinful conclusion.

The sound of Jones’ cacophonous music was actually quite soothing. The thumping bass, disjointed chords and screeching sirens certainly did the trick of drowning out Dan’s thoughts, which had been a dull roar of unrelenting frustration for the majority of the day. And it was certainly easier to listen to without Claire storming into the room every few minutes to complain about the noise. Although Dan would rather not think about why she wasn’t home right now. Working on her film at Nathan fucking Barley’s place most likely… _oh God._

Dan tried to let Jones’ music pound that sickening thought out of his mind as he stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit a new one, staring listlessly at the blank word document on his (actually, Jones’) laptop. He was supposed to be doing an article on the latest twatty idiot-pleasing fad that he didn’t even have the strength to properly research – the up and coming shop launch of some poncey jewellery designer with a ridiculous name, who was charging stupid amounts of money for some absolute nonsense that made Dan struggle to hang onto his ever-dwindling will to live. And SugarApe thought this fuckery was _cool_ , so Dan couldn’t even be honest and knock out a thousand words about how it was all just bollocks that you’d have to be totally braindead to actually like. So he was struggling a bit. Dan wasn’t sure who he hated more; the idiots for eating this shit up, or himself for being their subordinate and supplier. For fuck sake…

Dan let his gaze slide over to Jones, watching the younger man work behind his decks for a while. Jones was the only person he could stand to be around for any extended period of time. His interactions with Claire were almost always filled with nothing but guilt-trips, nagging and old family resentments, before their combined Ashcroft stubbornness caused one of them to storm out of the room. The only person at the SugarApe office who wasn’t a thundering great moron deserving of chemical castration (or, in the case of Jonattan Yeah?, _pure evil)_ was Sasha, but she mostly regarded him with a sort of quiet pity that was only bearable in small doses. And practically everyone else Dan came into contact with was a fucking idiot of nightmarish proportions. Jones was the only person Dan actually liked.

Jones was bright and optimistic, fuelled by coffee and sugar and occasionally substances a little bit less legal, and had an almost deranged passion for his music that was actually quite admirable. He hated all the same things Dan hated, although he didn’t let them get to him nearly as much. He made the kind of music _he_ liked rather than what other people thought was good, unapologetic to the end and openly disgusted by anyone who faked an interest in DJing just to look cool. While at a first glance he could pass for one of the herd, he actually dressed exactly the way that _he_ wanted, but was young and attractive enough to be accepted by the idiot masses as one of their own, not that he gave a toss what they thought. Jones was intelligent, much more intelligent than most people gave him credit for, and he was very much his own man. He was the only person who could deal with Dan’s moods, just as Dan was the only person who could stand Jones’ deafening music, some of which was pretty good if you actually listened to it properly.

Dan accepted Jones exactly as he was, loud hyperactivity and inhuman sleeping patterns and all, and Jones accepted Dan for the grumpy, miserable, misanthropic old bastard that he was. Jones really was the only good thing in Dan’s life.

Not that he would ever actually say that to Jones out loud. No fucking way. Not even when they were curled up on the sofa together, or wrapped around each other in the flat’s only bed when Claire was away. All that mushy, sentimental crap wasn’t really their style. They both knew how the other felt without having to go through the awkwardness of actually talking about it. Although an annoyingly insecure part of Dan kind of did want to talk about it, just to make sure they were on the same page. Just to make sure he wasn’t the only one falling so damn hard. Fucking feelings…

Jones caught Dan’s eye and smiled, warm and sweet and not quite as manic as his usual grin, the kind of smile that made Dan feel all fluttery inside.

“Alright, Dan?” he yelled over the racket.

Dan wasn’t sure, so he just sort of shrugged. Jones smiled knowingly and he changed the music to something a bit less jarring, a mix of deep, slow bass and pulsing riffs that was still a bit all over the place but by Jones’ standards was almost soulful. Dan’s Mix Vol. 3, it was called. Jones has a lot of mixes he’d made just for Dan. He turned the volume down so it was quiet enough to hold a conversation without shouting, and went to go sit next to Dan on the sofa, resting his head on the older man’s shoulder.

“So what kinda idiot-fodder have the cunts got you writing about this time?”

Dan couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Despite appearances, he and Jones really weren’t that different. “Some absolute wank-stain charging £60 for some God-defeatingly stupid necklaces made out of Barbie doll heads and a spray painted Rubik cubes. Total fucking moron, of course.”

“Or maybe,” Jones suggested with a smirk. “A total _genius_ who’s realised they can cash in on the idiocy by just throwing any old shite together and calling it jewellery?”

“Either way, I can’t write about this crap,” Dan huffed. “It’s meant to be a feature and the magazine thinks it’s _amazing_ , meaning that _I_ have the think it’s amazing or I won’t get paid. But I don’t even have the strength to bullshit my way through this. These fuckers have wrung me dry.”

Jones looked up at him, and Dan could barely stand to look back. Those big blue eyes were saying way too much, reading his mind as usual. He sort of loved and hated when Jones did that.

“I know what you’re gonna say, Jones…”

“Do you now?”

“You’re gonna say that I’m wasting my talents working for the twats at SugarApe, and that the fact I’m a useless fucked up failure is entirely my own fault.”

Jones snorted. “Not in those exact words, but yeah, kinda. I always thought you were better than them, Dan. Better than the whole rotten lot of them. I’ve seen up close what they’ve done to you over the years, babe. For fuck sake, you used to be a laugh!”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, until I sold my soul to the idiots…”

“Yeah, until you sold your soul,” said Jones. “It happens to the best of us. Do you really think I wanna be cutting the hair of fucking cretins with more money than sense at Stanley Knives for the rest of my days? Hell no, I’m only there because the pay is brilliant and they give me a little extra to DJ. Just like you’re only still at SugarApe because you need the money and there’s nowhere else to go. But until something less soul-stealing comes along, writing bullshit for the idiots is gonna have to do, yeah? Bullshit pays the bills.”

“Bullshit pays the bills,” Dan scoffed, taking a drag of his cigarette and shutting the laptop in disgust. “You should put that on a t-shirt.”

“I might.”

Dan chuckled, stubbing out his finished cigarette into the overflowing ashtray. Before he could light up yet another one Jones suddenly sat up and straddled his lap.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked as Jones held onto his shoulders.

“What’s it look like, you bellend?” said Jones with a giggle. “I’m cheering you up! Nothing like a good shag to take your mind off things, eh? And fuck knows when Claire’s gonna be back, so we may as well make the most outta having the place to ourselves.”

“What about my article?” Dan tried to argue, although his heart wasn’t really in it. Not with a lap full of Jones and his cock already growing in his pants.

“What about it? You weren’t writing nothing anyway. So shut up and take me to bed, big man!”

Dan growled and stood up, holding onto Jones by the arse and carrying him to the bedroom – which wasn’t easy with Jones sucking his earlobe and biting his neck like that. Once he’d kicked the bedroom door closed behind him, Dan threw Jones down onto the bed, making the younger man laugh loudly as he bounced on the mattress. Jones got undressed like it was a race, throwing his clothes in every direction until his pale, slim body was completely nude before Dan had even gotten his shirt off.

“No rush, sweetheart,” he said, smiling. “What, have you got somewhere you need to be?”

“Yeah,” said Jones matter-of-factly. “Underneath you, getting the life bummed outta me.”

“Well, since you put it so nicely…”

Dan finally removed the last of his clothes, chuckling to himself every time Jones huffed impatiently, and finally crawled on the bed. Jones lay back and spread his legs, letting Dan get on top of him and sighing happily as Dan trailed kisses up his chest and sucked dark red bruises across his collarbone.

“Hang on,” Jones said suddenly, pushing Dan off of him. “Get on your stomach, I have a great idea!”

“Alright,” said Dan, arousal masking his slight confusion as he lay down on his stomach. “Bossy… what did you have in mind?”

Jones straddled Dan’s hips, his little hands trailing over Dan’s broad back. “You need to relax, babe. How’s about I give you massage?”

Dan smirked as he got himself comfortable. “Let me guess. With a happy ending?”

“Exactly,” said Jones, and Dan could actually _hear_ him grinning.

“Alright, do your worst.”

Jones began to knead Dan’s shoulders and back, working the many knots out of his forever-tense muscles, and Dan all but melted against the mattress, letting out the kind of whimper that would have embarrassed him if it hadn’t all felt _so good._ He hadn’t realised just how much he needed this, but as usual Jones had read his mind. Just as he felt like he was about to fall into a blissful sleep, Dan suddenly felt Jones’ soft lips pressing against the back of his neck, just as his small hands moved lower and his erection grinded against Dan’s backside.

“Feeling better?” he whispered into Dan’s ear.

Dan moaned, pushing his arse back against Jones. “Much… much better.”

“Good.”

Jones gave Dan one more kiss on the shoulder and got off of him, turning him around to lie on his back. Dan knew he probably had the dopiest smile on his face, but he really didn’t care. His cock was leaking all over his stomach and his whole body felt like it was made out of cobwebs. Jones could do whatever he liked with him – this was the sort of relinquishing of control that Dan was totally okay with, unlike the total lack of control in every other aspect of his life.

Jones kissed his way down Dan’s torso, licking his nipples and sucking little red marks all over his flushed skin until he reached his twitching cock. He planted a light kiss to the leaking tip, making Dan gasp.

“Where d’you want your happy ending, babe?” Jones purred, looking up at Dan behind his fringe. “In my mouth, or in my arse? I’m happy with either, to be honest.”

Dan sat up on his elbows, brushing his straggly hair out of his face. “Well, you said you wanted me to bum the life outta you… I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Jones cheered – actually _cheered_ – and grabbed a condom and a bottle of lube from the bedside cabinet. Dan forced his incredibly relaxed limbs to move and got on top of Jones, taking the bottle of lube and slicking up his fingers and Jones spread his legs excitedly. Dan took his time prepping Jones, starting with one finger until the tight ring of muscles relaxed enough to add a second. After scissoring and twisting he added a third finger, curling them just right until his fingertips pressed against Jones’ prostate and make him cry out in pleasure – there really was nothing better than the sounds Jones made, it was the best music he could make.

“Hurry up and get inside me, big man!” Jones begged, squirming against the bed.

“So bossy…” Dan whispered, arching an eyebrow as he carefully removed his fingers and rolled the condom onto himself.

Dan kissed Jones hard as he entered him, both of them groaning into each other’s mouths as Jones wrapped his legs around Dan’s hips.

“Don’t bother starting slow,” Jones murmured against Dan’s lips. “I know you need it rough, so give it to me fucking _rough_ , babe.”

There was Jones reading his mind again. Dan didn’t need telling twice, so he grabbed hold of Jones’ wrists and pinned them above his head with one hand, his other hand hooking under Jones’ thigh to spread his legs wider as he pounded into him hard and fast.

“Ohh, _fuck_ ,” Jones moaned loudly, throwing his head back against the pillow. “Oh God, Dan!”

Dan’s own groans were muffled against Jones’ neck, sucking love-bites onto the creamy skin as he fucked Jones into the mattress. Jones was so small and delicate that it was Dan’s natural instinct to be gentle, but sometimes he just needed to fuck all his frustrations out and Jones was definitely tough enough to take it. He let go of Jones’ wrists and grabbed a handful of his hair instead, pulling his head back to lick his jaw.

“Touch yourself for me, Jonesy,” Dan snarled into his ear.

“Ohh, yeah,” Jones whimpered, wrapping a hand around his dripping cock. “You wanna see me come all over myself, do you, babe?”

“You know I do, you filthy little vixen…”

Jones stroked his cock faster as Dan slammed into him harder, both of them making even more of a racket than the music that was still playing in the living room. Dan kept his eyes on Jones, tugging on his handful of hair and angling his thrusts just right to hit Jones’ prostate dead on until, with a loud, erotic, _pornographic_ moan of Dan’s name, Jones finally came all over himself, his whole body shaking as his release spurted all over his chest and stomach in hot ropes.

“Fucking beautiful…” Dan growled, his thrusting becoming messy and erratic as he spoke without thinking. “You’re so fucking _beautiful_ , Jones… I’d never let them touch you… you’re perfect… and you’re mine… all fucking _mine_ …”

Soon he was coming deep inside Jones with a roar, the two of them wrapping their arms tightly around each other as they shook from their aftershocks of their incredible orgasms. Oh yes, Dan felt much better now.

That was, until he realised exactly what he’d said. It didn’t hit him until they were both lying under the covers and sharing a post-shag cigarette, but when it did it was like a slap in the face.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” said Jones, resting his head against Dan’s shoulder. “You’ve gone all tense again, and it’s gonna be at least thirty minutes until I can give you another happy ending massage to work the kinks out.”

Dan took a drag of his cigarette and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s… it’s nothing.”

“Is this about what you said while we were shagging? Y’know, about how I’m all yours and you’ll never let _them_ touch me, whoever _they_ are?”

“Erm… yeah. Sorry about that, I didn’t really know what I was saying.”

“Bollocks,” said Jones, taking the cigarette out of Dan’s hands and taking a drag of it himself. “You’re always well honest when you’re just about to come, I love it. So, who are _they?_ ”

“The idiots.”

“And why would any of the idiots wanna touch me?”

Dan sighed. He really didn’t want to have to explain himself. “I dunno, it’s just… what if they find out about me and you? What if Jonattan finds out, and starts sending me to gay sex clubs to write articles about orgies, just to humiliate me? What if Nathan fucking Barley finds out? God, he’d put it on his shit-awful website, turn getting off with blokes into some stupid new fad, would probably try it on with you and all because he’s fucking obsessed with copying me…”

Jones scoffed. “As if! You’re worrying over nothing as usual, babe. If Barley ever tried it on with me, d’you really think I’d give him the time of day? D’you really think I wouldn’t punch his lights out if he fucking touched me?”

“True.” Dan smiled at the thought of his Jones beating the seven shades of shit out of Nathan. Christ, it would be magnificent. “But still… the idiots have ruined literally every other thing in my so-called life. I just don’t want them to ruin this… ruin _us_. Because you’re the only good thing I have.”

Dan didn’t mean to say that, and he braced himself for the worst, but instead he was met with a 1000-Watt smile that made him feel all fluttery inside.

“Dan Ashcroft,” said Jones happily. “Are you tryna tell me that you love me?”

“Maybe, a bit… yeah. Yeah, I am. I do… love you, Jones.”

Jones giggled and pressed a kiss to the corner of Dan’s mouth. “I love you too, babe. How’s that for a happy fucking ending, eh?”


End file.
